Denial, Delirium, and Daisies
by D.Quiin
Summary: Runny nose, check. High temperature, check. Dizziness, check. Hmmm. Must be a concussion. In which our favorite masked vigilante gets a case of the flu, and denial.
1. Denial & Delirium

Disclaimer: Me is to owning Watchmen as a monkey is to owning Mars. And since we are evolved from monkeys, and Dr. Manhattan kinda owns Mars, this means…? Not quite sure.

:T-T:

_Rorschach's Journal November 27__th__ 1976_

_Stopped a bunch of scrawny kids from robbing convenience store. Wrist might be sprained, but fine. Got 911 call from store owner as thanks. Police didn't respond until 23 minutes later. Fat lards got out of the car brushing crumbs off clothes as I watched from opposite building. Could taste the rot and apathy rolling off them. One looks like father of kid who robbed store. Must check into it further. Streets are clogged with the stink of whores and murderer. The smell is making me sick. _

_November 28__th_

_The city's stench has gotten worse. Checked trashcans today for babies. Found two, one alive, one dead. Left alive one in front of hospital. Left dead one where it was. Its getting harder to breathe now. Had to take off mask when on roof. Feeling dizzy, and wrist still hurts. Will ignore it. Head hurts, from a mugger's crowbar. Must remember to ignore that too._

_November 29__th_

_Feeling worse then ever. Could barely get out of apartment today. Almost fell off roof. Not sure what is happening. Must have been mugger from last night. Possible concussion? Will go make sure police haven't released him yet. Will take care of him permanently. The cockroaches are getting harder and harder to stomp out They're overrunning everything in a swarm of writhing hairy bodies, fighting for the few moldy crumbs the city has to offer. Need stronger pesticide. Need to find Nite Owl. He's been gone a week. Hope he isn't dead. Need as many as we can get._

Rorschach stood from his crouched position on St. Patrick's cathedral, finishing his journal for the night. It was good to record things, just in case he needed to refer to them again later. Memories can be easily warped, and he couldn't afford that kind of slip up.

A wave of dizziness hit him as he stood up, and he braced himself against one of the church's many intricately designed spires.

"Remember to check for signs of possible concussion. Can't clean up the mess without a mop. Heh." Rorschach chuckled at his own joke. That was what his body was, after all: a mop. To be used to mop up the slime of the world. If the mop was broken, it wouldn't do anything more then smear it all around.

After a moment of stillness, Rorschach began to make his way to the ground. There were no good roofs to jump to from here, but the view was worth it.

He could barely see over the other buildings that towered over the small church, making it seem like it was in it's own little world. Almost made him forget about the sewage and muck that made up this city. Almost gave him hope for humanity. Not that he would ever admit that.

His landing on the sidewalk minutes later left much to be desired.

"Remember to practice jumps more. Have been getting sloppy." He darted into a nearby alleyway, letting the shadows hide him from curious eyes. Another wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. He had to stop and lean against the alley wall.

He felt uncomfortable hot, and his mouth tasted like he put red coals into them. Rorschach didn't know what was wrong with him, but he decided he would ignore it until he found Nite Owl. He needed to make sure his comrade (not friend, never friend) was okay.

Rorschach had no friends. Rorschach needed no friends. Friends leads to feelings and feelings leads to guilt and hate and anger, and a thousand different emotions that clouded one's judgment and leave one blind. Blindness inevitably leads to a downward spiral, into crime and debauchery and the darkness of the human soul.

Rorschach was never going to get caught in that spiral.

"No criminal has been bragging about bagging an owl. Haven't seen his flying machine in the sky. No mentions of Dan Dreiberg in the paper. Time to check his hideout." Rorschach mumbles to himself as he makes his way towards his partner's home, paying no attention to the fact that he was sweating heavily in his coat and mask, and that it was getting harder for him to walk in a straight line.

_Must check his house. _The thought became a mantra in his head, which he held on to as he struggled to pull up manhole which he knew would take him to Nite Owl's layer. _Must check house._ He forced back the vomit building in his thought as he walked up the steps from the underground layer which lead to Dan's house.

_Costume still on the dummy. If dead, wasn't in uniform._ Rorschach fought to think clearly. Disease? Car accident? Heart attack? He grabbed the door handle and pushed it open softly, remembering to be quiet.

Everything was dark, silent. Rorschach smelled no blood, and everything was pristine. He didn't see signs of a struggle, and Dan's expensive coffer maker was still there. Rorschach checked burglary off the list in his head, and walked past the breakfast table, intent on checking the study and the bedroom.

He made it across the kitchen and into the hallway before he heard the front door unlock and click open. Rorschach froze. He tried to move, tried to hide, but he couldn't. His muscles were not responding. His head felt full of cotton with the brambles still in. He stumbled backwards into the kitchen doorframe, shivering and shaking. He couldn't think properly. _No no no!_

The figure in the door way accidently knocked into the staircase and cursed softly. The lights flicked on, and Rorschach winced, closing his eyes, the sudden change leaving him feeling sicker than ever. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he doubled over, refusing to throw up in his mask.

"Rorschach? What are you doing here?" The voice belonged to Dan. When Rorschach didn't respond, now concentrating fully on not puking his guts out, Dan's voice increased in pitch and worry.

"Jeez man, are you okay? What happened? Did you get hurt?" Rorschach tried to straighten up, to shake his head and explain, but he aborted his idea as soon as the smallest movement made the room spin.

Rorschach tied to tell his partner that he was fine, that he was just checking up on him, and to ask where had he been, but all that came out was a strained whimper. He closed his eyes again in a futile attempt to block everything out.

Rorschach heard footsteps toward him, and put his arm in front of him as if to ward Dan off. This back fired when Dan took hold of his wrist.

Pain, in large quantities, rushed up his arm from his wrist, the one he had hurt from stopping the robbery on the 27th. Rorschach cried out, trying to pull away, but ended up fumbling with his mask to pull it up just high enough not to be in the way of puking onto the floor.

Unfortunately, instead of making him feel better, the smell of vomit stung his eyes and made him want to hurl again. With pure force of will, Rorschach managed to avoid turning his stomach inside out again. He clung to the wall with all his might.

Rorschach slid down the wall, thinking deliriously that that pattern the mess on the floor made reminded him vaguely of a butterfly. Or a car accident. At this point, he wasn't being picky

Black began to encroach on the sides of his vision, narrowing his line of sight. He held it off as long as he could, but finally Rorschach conceded to darkness and passed out.


	2. Discussion & Discovery

Disclaimer: Hint: It hasn't changed from before! Also I wanted to mention that the bit before about "checking trashcans for babies" was not in fact from the Watchman comic as I had thought when I wrote it (at 2 in the morning) but from another really good Watchmen fic by SirenRiya. (Hint #2: Check out her stuff!))

8-v-8

"…bumps and bruises?! Is that what you call it? He's got a broken wrist and a god-damn concussion!"

"And he's running a fever of 105."

"Yeah, and he's… wait, what?!"

"Not to mention the passing out and vomiting."

"Laurie, you're not helping."

"Look. It's obvious to anyone that Rorschach is as sick as a dog here, and I know that none of us really have any nursing skills to speak of, so why don't we just take him to a hospital?" Laurie Jusoezyk, a.k.a Silk Spectre and the only female in the Watchmen (a name she sometimes resented but then forgave when she remembered that "Watch-people" didn't quite have the same ring to it) impatiently flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "We can just take off his mask, and no one would know the difference, right?"

Dan Dreiberg, also known as Nite Owl, snapped back at her, "No! No hospitals. We aren't going to do that to a fellow teammate."

"Well why not? You know how badly off he is, not to mention a broken wrist and possible concussion. Frankly, I'm surprised he wasn't killed by some mugger. We just can't deal with this. Besides, you know Rorschach wouldn't want us cutting into our patrol time for him." Dan took his glasses off to polish time, a delaying tactic Laurie had long since picked up on. In response, she folded her arms under her breasts and shunted her weight to one leg, in a classic 'angry/irritated/not good for men' stance.

Daniel finally opened his mouth argue further, but Adrian Veidt, also known as Ozymandias, suddenly interrupted from the other side of the room. Daniel had called Adrian because he was of course the smartest man on earth, thus he would be their best bet on helping Rorschach, and she was there because Dan had called them while they were patrolling together.

Adrian spoke, trying to play peacemaker, "Laurie, you know how Rorschach is. The moment he wakes up in a hospital, surrounded by people he doesn't know, what do you think he will do?"

Laurie considered this idea for a moment, and shuddered. Visions of screaming nurses and bloodstained walls danced through her mind. "I guess your right. The body count will be lower if we keep him here." Laurie smoothed her hair back as she suddenly realized something.

Turning to Daniel, she asked, "That's okay, right Dan? You know I can't bring him home, and Adrian is the public eye right now, especially since his products are becoming so popular. What would people say if they found out he was seemingly nursing a total stranger back to health?"

"I would probably be outed as keeping a gay lover secluded away secretly and my company's stocks would drop faster than you can say, well…" As Adrian looked off to one side thoughtfully to think of some meaningful phrase or word, Laurie turned back to Dan a wide smile plastered onto her face,

"See, this is why it is best that he stays here."

Dan spluttered, "Wait, so it's okay that _my_ reputation may go down the shit hole because people might think I'm homosexual, but not for Adrian? And what do you mean by 'outed?!"

Giving up his hunt for an appropriate phrase, Adrian looked over to him with one of his cat-ate-the-canary-_and_-the-cream smirks, and a feeling of foreboding hit Dan like a freight train. Those smiles never boded well for anyone. The last time Adrian had smiled like that, Dan had ended up paying for a huge amount of repair parts for Archie. He was never letting Adrian drive it again. Smartest man in the world he may be, but the craziest driver was a close second. He could give any taxi driver in New York a run for his money.

When Adrian continued in his smirking, Dan felt a shiver go down his back. _Was Adrian …? Oh shit oh shit oh shit. What do I do?! It's not like I'm against gays, but I wasn't expecting this! Okay man, you've got to be cool, calm, accepting. Didn't you read a book for this?_

As Dan was having his little crisis, Adrian turned to Laurie and said, "I've actually have some very basic first aid training, but really its all common sense. Here, let me write down a quick list. Do you have paper and pen?" Laurie nodded, oblivious what had just transpired between the two men.

"Its all simple, you know, give him lots of fluids, watch his temperature, and make sure he remembers to eat. For the first week, Rorschach really needs to have someone looking out for him at all times. We don't know how bad it could get, even if it is a simply flu. His lifestyle and other injuries are just going to make it worse."

Laure was suddenly hit with an idea, "Oh! I think we might need to make a time table, and get all the Watchmen members in on it. You know, like a rotating schedule? That way no one is committed to being nursemaid for a large period of time, so we can still patrol and keep down our jobs. I'm sure the others would be happy to help out." She bounced a little in her heels, knowingly ignoring the fact that no, the others would be happy to help out and, yes, they would be too polite to say so. Well, maybe not the Comedian, but she wouldn't trust him near a sick person anyways. He'd be probably end up setting poor Rorschach on fire.

Laurie didn't mention the other reason she didn't think sticking someone in a room with a sick Rorschach for an extended period of time would be good for anyone else's health either. Rorschach had a strong personality when he was at the peak of health, and an ill Rorschach could turn out to be just as mulish, or worse. She wasn't sure how she was going to put up with him herself. Laurie wasn't a doctor, but she knew that strangling your patient did not help them on the road to recovery.

"Here you go." Laurie blinked, shaken out of her reverie, and turned towards Adrian.

"Sorry, what?" The phone rang in the background as he stepped toward her, list in hand.

"Here is a rough schedule I drew out. I know I won't be able to help out a lot, but I will come when I can. It also takes into account Dr. Manhattan's schedule as well as the Comedian's, for the next month or so." He smiled charmingly, and handed her the paper.

_How in the hell did he know Jon's schedule? Or Edward's?_ Laurie wondered as she read over the timetable. _Even I didn't know Jon had a meeting with NASA this weekend. I thought we were supposed to go to Central Park. _If it had been anyone else, Laurie would feel extremely uneasy about how much this person knew about the Watchmen's lives.

But this was Adrian, and she could trust him. Usually. _There was that incident with the birthday cake last September…_

Then his last words caught up with her. The mean mention of the Comedian still made her blood boil. "Wait. Stop. The Comedian is coming to help out?!" When she thought about the Comedian and Rorschach together in a small enclosed space, she wasn't joking when she was worried one of them would get hurt. (Only Rorschach, really.) "First off, isn't he busy playing Rottweiler for the President? And second, are we really going to trust Rorschach alone with him?!"

Adrian's expression was mild, but his voice was sharp and reprimanding as he responded, "I seriously doubt Edward will do anything to Rorschach. He respects him, quite a bit actually. He won't mind taking some time off to help an old friend."

Before she could reply, Dan came into the room, looking flustered. Huh. She hadn't even noticed he had left.

He cleared his throat nervously, and his eyes darted towards Adrian a few times, much like a mouse eyeing a cat. _What was going on?_ Laurie thought, confused, as she saw Adrian return the look with one of his famous heart stopping smiles. Which were (if she remembered correctly, and she did) reserved only for the particularly attractive damsels in distress. "What is it Dan?"

"Oh, well, um, Jon just called. He said he would be picking you up at seven, and he would be delighted to help us out with Rorschach watching-duty." Dan's voice turned from uncomfortable to half irritated, half awed, "How does he _do_ that?" Laurie rolled her eyes,

"Remember? He sees the past and present as the same thing." Adrian walked towards the hall and past Dan, who not so subtly froze. The blond stopped when he was abreast of the other man, and rest his hand on Dan's shoulder in a comforting manner. Laurie saw Dan tense. What in _God's name_ was going on between them? Adrian turned his head to her, his torso twisting,

"I'm going to go check on Rorschach. Don't set the house on fire while I'm gone." Laurie huffed with the airs of a women put upon. Whatever was going on between Dan and Adrian was Not Her Business, no matter how much she wanted it to be. She was not going to turn out like her mother, (now there's a hypocritical statement, the back of her mind thought) some busybody in everyone else's business It was a fact of life that men were strange, whether they be blue or not. She ignored Dan's pleading expression and turned to walk over to the table by the window.

"Sounds fantastic. We'll just wait here and discuss the schedule." Adrian smiled at her from the middle of the room, reminding her of the Cheshire cat. _Funny_, she thought to herself, _I never remembered Adrian's smiles to show that many teeth._

~\.-./~

Rorschach gradually returned to the world of the living. _No! Not yet!_ He struggled, wanting to descend back into the darkness, back into the place where there were no muggers, or prostitutes, or people at all. Into the comforting blackness of oblivion. But just like a struggling butterfly in a spider's web, the more Rorschach fought, the more he became conscious of the world around him.

_Reality_, he thought, opening his eyes a crack to pear around, _like a wasp. Looks interesting at first, but after the first sting, don't want nothing to do with it. _Rorschach's eyes were already adjusted to the dimmed room, the darkness coming from the closed curtains. The room was obviously some sort of guest room, unlived in, polite looking. Smelled musty too. He bet he was the first person this room had seen in a while. Rorschach grimaced in pain. It felt like someone had wrapped his head with cloth, and then stuffed it up his nose and mouth. Rorschach began to cough, and noticing a glass of water along with a pitcher resting innocuously on the bedside table, he reached for it instinctively.

He didn't trust the water. Grabbing the glass, he smelled the water and looked at it carefully. It never hurt to check for poison.

All he remembered was that he passed out in Nite Owl's house while searching for the owner of aforementioned house, and that Dan had walked in the door as he did so. There was a good chance that he was still in Nite Owl's house, but Rorschach didn't survive on chances. The vomiting and dizziness could have been from gasses put in the air, and Nite Owl's disappearance still hadn't been accounted for. _Could be kidnapped, and stuck in here as prisoner. _Rorschach conveniently disregarded the fact that he was tucked into a bed, not chained to a chair. _Trying to confuse me. Throw me off guard. Not going to work. _

Rorschach spotted a plant in a corner of the room, and moved to climb out of the bed. _Can pour water in the plant, and wait. If plant dies, know it is poison. _As he pulled off the covers Rorschach noticed a clean white bandage on his wrist, the wrist he had fallen on the 27th. This led to him noticing his lack of trench coat, and more importantly, his lack of clothes in general. Rorschach didn't understand how he could have missed this. Losing one's clothes after all, is something one would think they remembered. Now that he realized this, he could feel the soft cotton sheets rubbing gently against his legs. He had been stripped down to his boxers. Even more disturbing was what Rorschach realized as he touched his exposed cheek.

His face was gone. The bottom of the world dropped out from beneath him. Rorschach immediately began to feel vulnerable, sicker than before. He gripped the glass tightly, hearing it creak under his fingers. Where was it?! Someone had taken it off. Someone would pay.

They had seen that face. The dead man's face. Walter Kovacs' face. He needed to get away, to escape.

Rorschach jumped out of bed, ignoring the tilting of the ground beneath his feet. He pushed himself to think, _think_, of how to get out. _Window, 3__rd__ story. Can see into other apartments. No fire escape or ledge. Two doors, one probably closet, one a way out. Possible weapons: hanger from closet, or pitcher. Fine. Worked with worse._

While his mind was furiously awhirl with plans and possibilities, Rorschach braced himself and strode purposely for the closet, glass of water still in hand. Or at least he tried to. For a second, the world went white and the thought he might vomit, or worse, faint. It eventually passed, and Rorschach forced himself to breath quietly and evenly through his open mouth, trying to ignore the burning pain in his throat. His body felt like it was simultaneously on fire and freezing. _Paradoxical heat. Simulates pain, doesn't actually damage nerves. Ignore it._

Just as he took a step away from the bed, the door opened. Rorschach dumped out the water in his glass and held it tightly, prepared to smash it against the intruder's face. His stance became ready and alert, weight on the balls of his feet. Only his quick reflexes (or his sickness, although he would _never_ admit that) stopped Rorschach from braining the person with his glass when they turned their face toward him.

"Adrian?" He rasped out, and then winced. He sounded like a confused child. _Not a child, never a child. _Adrian smiled gently, and then stepped forward. Rorschach watched him warily. _What's he doing here? Thought he was still playing with toys._

"Ah, you're awake. Good. How are you feeling?"

Rorschach stood there dumbly, his mind a blank, while Adrian continued to smile at him with only the oblivious blondes or very small children can achieve.

.T-T.

A/N: Whew. Finally got that out. It's a bit longer from the first chapter, yay! I wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm actually really worried about this chapter. I hope I captured everyone's voice and behavior correctly. T_T If you don't think I did, drop me a line at tell me! I don't want to be writing an OOC Rorschach, after all. Although, Adrian is feeling a little OOC to me, what with all the screwing around with Dan(get you head out of the gutter)'s mind and all. On the other hand, maybe he's not. DUN DUN DUN!!!!


	3. Distrust & Dry cleaning

Disclaimer: Actually, I DO own Watchmen. Which is precisely why I am living in a small home and have to wash my own laundry. What? Didn't you know that the rich do that too? Also, I wrote Rocky Horror Picture Show. And the Bible. Just throwing that out there.

.T T.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. How are you feeling?"

Rorschach stood there dumbly, his mind a blank, while Adrian continued to smile at him with only the oblivious blondes or very small children can achieve.

As his mind went into overdrive, Rorschach fought back another wave of dizziness. _He's supposed to be in New Orleans. About a new toy. A villain. Can't remember. Not important. What is he doing here? _

Adrian. Ozymandias. A fellow Watchmen and self made billionaire. Or in Rorschach's opinion, a cowardly sellout.

Unfortunately for Rorschach, he was also standing right in front of the doorway. _Feint towards window might work. Or throw the glass at him. Long enough to distract and get out. _Also unfortunately for Rorschach, his feinting and aiming abilities were severely lower due to being sick. Which he wasn't. At all.

Adrian interrupted Rorschach's thought of a daring escape, "Daniel called me. While he's no stranger to patching people up, he couldn't tell if you were really bad off or not. I was in the neighborhood, and he asked me to drop in. I couldn't pass up a chance to patch up a comrade for old times sake."

"Louisiana is not what you'd call close." Rorschach said finally, his voice rough. The use of his throat for something other than breathing, alas, seemed to dreg up all the coughs and that had been residing in him for the last couple of days, which he had held back only through pure force of denial. Rorschach attempted to keep them at bay, but like a pack of hungry animals, they ripped out of his throat with a painful and startling ferocity (and isn't that just descriptive).

Tears gathered in his eyes as he attempted not to suffocate, due to all the air going out of his lungs instead of in. He braced himself with his free hand against the bed stand. Eventually the coughs subsided, and Rorschach looked up, red and out of breath, at Adrian only to see a strange look on the other man's face.

"You know," Adrian mused thoughtfully, "this is the first time I think I've actually seen you look, well, like a real human being."

Anyone else would have taken offense at such a comment, but Rorschach took it instead as a compliment. _Can't be human after you see the underbelly of society. Can't be human if you want to win._ These musings brought Rorschach back to his original problem, his lack of mask.

He snapped his head up, glaring at Adrian. Now that he had a target to focus his anger on, he could forget everything else. His dizziness, his runny nose, his throat, it was all pushed aside. Just like when he took out justice on the scum of society. Rorschach's world tunneled into one single purpose: getting his face back.

In his deepest, most gravelly tone (only made worse by his sore throat) he commanded, "Give me back my face."

This was his special voice that made corrupt politicians wet themselves, and the hardiest of mobsters cry. Needless to say, he was very proud of it.

And Adrian was apparently immune. Instead of turning into a small pile of whimpering goo, which was what Rorschach expected, he blinked in surprise and answered.

"Oh, you mean your inkblot mask? It was revoltingly filthy; I wouldn't be surprised if your extreme sickness is due to wearing that thing all the time."

"I'm not sick." Rorschach protested, still using his scary voice. He might as well been talking to a wall, for all the good that did him. Adrian continued to talk, ignoring the alpha undertones in Rorschach's voice,

"...And anyways, it was simply disgusting. Did you know the material is used mainly for women's dresses? Where did you find it anyways? The heat activated patterns are fascinating. Didn't Jon design-"

Rorschach interrupted him with a growl. He was quickly losing what little patience he had left. He wanted his face, and he wanted it now. If Adrian didn't tell him where to find it, he was smashing his glass in the other man's perfect face. See how he liked to feel exposed and revolting, with all his inside faults on the outside. "Where is it, Ozymondias?"

The use of his former code-name snapped Adrian out his one sided conversation.

"Oh. Well, it's at the dry cleaners."

"YOU DRY CLEANED MY _FACE_?!" Rorschach could barely think. _Dry cleaned my face. The mask._

_Isn't supposed to be dry cleaned. Will shrink and weaken the material. Supposed to wash cold and air dry. Don't iron_. Rorschach remembered rules about clothes from his days in the garment industry. _There's no more. Used up._ He felt his control snap, and Rorschach launched himself at Adrian, snarling.

_I'm going to shove the glass down his throat._

The blond dodged smoothly, grapping Rorschach and putting him into an effective half-Nelson. The shorter man struggled futility, all the while shouting,

"Give it back! I want it back!" He threw his head backwards and felt it connect solidly with Adrian's chin. _Good. Hope he bites his tongue off._

Adrian cursed, and shook Rorschach roughly, apparently not so happy about the possible bruise to his face,

"Control yourself Rorschach! We washed it in Dan's washing machine. Don't you think we would know how to wash costume gear after how many years? Cease this tantrum at once! You're only going to make yourself sicker!" Rorschach would have protested more by head butting the man again, but he felt his strength rapidly leaving him, so he stopped struggling.

_Must conserve energy, in case of more serious fighting needed. _Rorschach knew that Adrian wouldn't understand Rorschach's need for his face back. After all, Adrian was the one who willingly revealed hisown true face by exposing himself to the world. Still, the sudden act of showing up at Nite Owl's house was strange, and so was his willingness to help (torture) Rorschach. Not that he needed doctoring. Adrian claimed it was for 'old time's sake', but Rorschach wasn't buying it.

The crime fighter wracked his mind for some sort of plausible reason that Adrian would willingly come back after hanging up his cape. Was it boredom? Did he want to do more research for fresh toy ideas?

Or maybe it was something more sinister. Rorschach had always been suspicious of Adrian's desire to leave Watchmen. Had someone gotten a hold of him, someone who twisted Adrian's values and beliefs into unrecognizable shapes? Rorschach decided to come straight out and asked him.

"You brainwashed?" He felt the other man stiffen in surprise.

"What? No. Of course not. Who do you think could brainwash the world's smartest man, at the very least without him noticing it? Give me a little more credit than that, Rorschach." Adrian's moviesque chuckle was cut short by Rorschach's next words.

"Thought they did when you left us."

After a few moments of no response, Rorschach became uncomfortably aware of the awkward silence that was thickening in the room like molasses. He hated feeling like this. He wanted his face back. Rorschach wanted to feel like Rorschach again, not Walter. Not some puny garment maker. Not some whore's son.

Rorschach wanted to hide his face. Under the covers or the bed were the only possible options, but a true crime fighter didn't bury his head in the sand, so he stood stiffly, arms twisted back in the hold Adrian had on him.

He was suddenly released, and spun around to face the other man, swiftly positioning himself in a fighting stance, tense and angry.

Which is why he was totally thrown off balance when Adrian reached out, ruffled his hair affectionately, and proceeded to drag him out the door and down the hall.

"Wh-Stop." Rorschach tried to plant his feet on the ground, but it was tilting uncooperatively underneath him, so he had no choice but to grab the arm pulling him along.

"Now that your little tantrum is finished, its time to get you clean. You stink like the inside of a garbage truck. I bet every criminal in New York City can smell you a mile off. How are you supposed to catch any bad guys that way?" He scolded, walking down the carpeted hallway. He made no mention of Rorschach's gruff confession, although if one squinted there could have been something like a smile in his eyes.

Rorschach, after stumbling to halt, looked up at Adrian like he was crazy. "Take a shower? Not going to happen." He wouldn't mention it to Adrian, but to Rorschach, the grime felt like part of his costume, something he needed to blend in with the cockroaches and the leeches. "I'm leaving."

This was not one fight he was going to win, however

Adrian laughed, good humor restored, "No, you're not. If you even think about leaving. I will personally drag you back and wash you myself. And I know how much you'll enjoy that, yes?" He maneuvered Rorschach into the bathroom.

"Now, this is what we of the hygienically inclined like to call a bathroom. That over there is where water comes out like a waterfall and we wash ourselves in it. The common term for it is a shower. Now-" Rorschach interrupted him.

"I know what it is." Adrian brightened, and then clapped his hands together, obviously mocking something. Rorschach had an uncomfortable feeling it was him.

"Goody. Then let's get to it! Here are your towels," He handed the redhead two large (and fluffy, Rorschach noted distastefully,) towels from the towel rack, "and I presume you know how to use soap and such. Yes? Great." Adrian pushed Rorschach further into the bathroom, and closed the door. Rorschach noticed there was no lock on it.

_Will slip out when he leaves and find face. Then lay low and wait 'till all of this blows over._ Rorschach's plotting was cut short by Adrian's voice coming through the door,

"I don't hear the water running. There is nothing in there you can use for a tool to get out the window, and I should remind you we are three stories up." Adrian's voice sounded far too cheery for Rorschach. He hoped the blonde man would fall down the stairs.

Rorschach searched the room none the less, but found nothing except toothpaste, a brush, and a stick of deodorant. He couldn't think of any ingenious plans to use these to escape. Maybe he could grease the floor with the deod-

"I'm not hearing the sounds of a shower! Remember, I will check to see if you've scrubbed behind your ears." Was it just him, or was Adrian's voice seemingly getting more satanic sounding every second? "I should mention that we've barricaded this door, so you can't get out."

Rorschach pushed on the door, just to make sure. It was certainly stuck shut. He was trapped. He rattled the door handle,

"Adrian!" Adrian's voice drifted through the door, suddenly serious,

"Don't worry Rorschach. You're with your teammates, or ex-teammate. Even, dare I say it, friends." He heard Adrian take a breath, "The Watchmen take care of each other. Trust us."

Rorschach glared at the door. H_ave no friends, only enemies. Can't survive on trust. _Despite these thoughts, his body slowly relaxed.

He locked into the mirror, a pale freckled face staring back at him. A stranger's face. _Walter's face._

_Must get out of here. Later. But Adrian is right. Can't catch the insects in web if the web is seen. Or smelled. Shower is a good idea._

Rorschach turned the shower on, and waited for the temperature of the water to rise.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that just wanted to feel clean again, to erase the city's touch on him.

(= : =)


End file.
